Starseeker
by deokjins
Summary: After a harsh reality check, Vanitas expels all possibility of falling in love with anyone. Ventus on the other hand becomes interested in Vanitas when he discovers that he's the raven's new target. Determined to learn more about one another while possibly getting in the other boy's pants, neither of them take the possibility of having their defenses broken through into account.


**STARSEEKER  
**

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**Pairing: **Vanitas/Ventus**  
**

**Summary:** Vanitas used to think that sex meant love. After a harsh reality check and now that he knowing the difference between the two, he expels all possibility of falling in love with anyone, settling for a string of one-night stands. He's still unable to control his tendency to become utterly and almost unhealthily obsessed with people who catch his attention outside of his frivolous sexual encounters. It's no different when he begins to take interest in Ventus—a mysterious classmate whose lifestyle isn't too different from his own. Ventus on the other hand becomes interested in Vanitas when he discovers that he's the raven's new target. Determined to learn more about one another while possibly getting in the other boy's pants, neither of them take the possibility of having their defenses broken through into account.

**A/N:** clearly i am enamoured with this pairing.

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Twilight Town Private Institution for Boys was the bane of Vanitas' existence.

He'd been stuck there since he was in elementary school—forced to wear the same uniform for three years before it finally changed upon entering middle school and again when he transitioned into high school. For years he couldn't figure out why he couldn't just go to a normal school; why did he have to live there with all those other boys, and for so long?

The answer? His parents couldn't deal with him. At least that's what the Institute's on-campus shrink had told him. Apparently he was a troubled child; his parents' constant fighting mixed in with being thrown into a foreign environment that had no sense of parental nurturing at such a young age had taken a toll on his psychological state.

_If that's so true, how come I can't remember much before being shipped off?_ he'd asked during a mandatory session with Mr. Leonhart—or Leon, as some of the other boys who actually accepted his help called him. And it was a logical question. If something traumatized him, he should be able to remember it clearly. Yet, most of his childhood before TTPI was like TV snow. He'd try to remember, and all of a sudden the picture would go out like the cable had been cut. Every time he tried to remember anything before that, he'd get a throbbing migraine and have to down almost half a bottle of Tylenol.

"Selective memory loss," Leon had told him (to which Vanitas had promptly snorted and told him he was full of shit). The man had fixed him with his steely-gray eyes before explaining the defense mechanism in greater detail. Vanitas barely listened. He didn't need to. Whether or not it actually worked with other people, Vanitas couldn't see himself being able to make himself forget something. Especially if it had fucked with his mind so much he needed therapy. He didn't have nightmares or anything, so why would he need to selectively forget it?

From what he could remember, there was a lot of yelling—mostly on his father's part. Aside from his father's over-controlling nature and his mother's pathetic failure to leave him, there wasn't much to it. At first. But then his father had found refuge at the bottom of a beer bottle. Or maybe ten.

The few times he went to visit them over the summer, he'd wondered how they were even still together. He would ask his mom, knowing very well that she wasn't happy. _Love makes fools of all of us,_ she told him as she brushed her fingers through his raven hair. He was glad he didn't have to witness her slowly break down into an empty shell that allowed herself to be abused by that bastard he called his father.

They fought a lot after he returned from his third year at the Institute; an almost constant reoccurring conflict that seemed to trigger at the slightest displeasure of his father. The man was beyond controlling. Vanitas had clued in on it one year while he was home for the summer. But even before coming to terms with his father's true nature, Vanitas never felt much of a connection to him. He did with his mother for a while, but it didn't last past the summer after eighth grade. They were always too wrapped up in whatever problems they had to help him with his own.

Like realizing he was bisexual upon entering the fourth grade, and being bullied for four years consecutively. He had trouble coping with the sudden onslaught of crude jokes, harassment, and emotional turmoil that followed his first confession to another boy. His mother's words echoed in his head, mocking him.

The summer he came out to his parents had changed him completely—had shattered any false hope he had about working to fix his relationship with them. Needless to say, he's certain he made things worse between all of them. He was sure his father would find some way to blame his mother for his only son growing up to be a "disgusting faggot"; or plainly take it out on her because he had banned Vanitas from setting foot in his house again and wouldn't be able to hit him instead. He couldn't even go home during breaks. Luckily for him, Leon—being the concerned adult he was and all that crap—had made arrangements for the school to house Vanitas all year 'round.

That's where he stayed every summer since eighth grade. He wasn't ungrateful or anything, but if he had things his way he'd have been out of there from day one.

But every bit of good news came with a catch. As soon as he turned eighteen, he'd have to find his own place.

His summer between freshman and sophomore year wasn't very memorable. He didn't live a cliché teenage life with all that fictitious shit you saw in those shows on TV. Well, maybe a little, but it certainly didn't happen in that cheesy cookie-cutter portrayal of what the media thought teenage life was supposed to be like. He had a group of guys he hung out with; juniors. They had 'fended off the guys who beat him up for making his sexual orientation known. He'd never openly admit to following them around like a lost puppy after that, but it was probably the most accurate way to put it.

They had introduced him to alcohol in a different way than his father's drunken rage had—a way that was something akin to pure bliss. A mind-numbing warming sensation that he found himself enjoying more and more. Most mornings he couldn't remember what happened the night before, and treating violent hangovers had become his norm. Violent hangovers and one-night stands.

Vanitas wouldn't go as far as to call himself an attention whore, but he liked it when people were captivated by him, negative or not. Luckily for him, he was good-looking enough, charming enough, and just the right amount of seductive to capture the attention of just about anyone he wanted. He didn't care what people thought of him, but it gave him a sense of self-satisfaction; probably some sort of mental disorder that came along with being neglected by his parents. He didn't know jack shit about self-diagnosis.

He'd built a reputation for himself over his high school career. He'd changed, remember? No longer the awkward and naive eighth grader, but a confident—if not a bit egotistical, even by his own standards—smooth-talker. He had his then-juniors-now-graduated friends to thank that for that. They had toughened him up, taught him the art of seduction through very interactive lessons (and he had enjoyed it more than he thought possible). He knew how to use what they taught him and knowledge from his own experiences to his advantage.

Despite that tiny psychological blemish, he had a perfect resume for someone who wanted to have a little fun with the new line of prey at the beginning of sophomore year. Vanitas remembered laughing his ass off at Axel and Demyx's reactions to seeing girls for the _first time in a million years, man._ It was a bit of an exaggeration, but he had to admit that his inner sentiments were of a similar nature.

Twilight Town Private Institute for Boys was no longer just for boys.

-—-—-

The summer was drawing to a close. A new year was on its way in a week—Vanitas would be a senior. His final year before he could finally say good riddance to the place that seemed to remind him of everything he hated about himself. He was more than ready to leave it all behind.

Until the year started and he saw a new face.

It was only a few months into the school year and Vanitas had heard a million different stories about his classmate—a lot of which went beyond the blonde boy's upped defenses and seemingly permanent frown. Vanitas wasn't really one to buy into the superficial dealings of gossip and rumours, but lately anything involving the fleeting blonde piqued his interest. The kid had an air of mystery floating around him; enough to intrigue, but too much to figure out through mere speculation. Though that didn't stop people from speculating.

From what he had seen, Vanitas had to admit he was attractive; flaxen hair that reflected the light of the sun, smooth pale skin visibly free of flaws, and deep pools of ocean blue set just above a straight nose and soft-looking rose lips, all in a boyish face. He was small for someone their age; probably an inch or two shorter than Vanitas, and with a much more slender figure. There were more times than one where his mind had wandered off into fantasies of having the other boy pinned beneath him, writhing in pleasure. Yes, he quite liked that idea, maybe even a little too much. He couldn't help himself—the boy was absolutely delicious.

Vanitas had been trying to get the other boy to at least hold a conversation with him (one that didn't turn into the blonde insulting him, not that he minded really; he liked the feisty ones) for weeks. They had had a few encounters, most of which Vanitas used to make his intentions well-known, though Ventus—Vanitas had gotten his name out of him after a lot of deliberate flirtation—didn't seem to be too interested. Yet. The other boy seemed to be uninterested in everyone, not just him. Vanitas watched others—boys and girls alike—attempt what he was attempting, though the girls had that annoying timid approach. _Yeah, like that would work._

There was one girl though, who might've been as persistent as Vanitas himself. She was petite and raven-haired like him, shooting the blonde smiles whenever she got the chance. Smiles that he noticed Ventus returning more and more as time went on. Whether the blonde was just being polite because she was a girl, or if she was slowly penetrating his defenses, Vanitas couldn't tell. But she annoyed him with her giggling and her switching seats to sit next to the current object of his interest.

You see, Vanitas had a little problem. Once he took interest in someone, he didn't let them go. It had happened many times before, but he could only really remember that one time vividly. It was with a boy he knew in middle school—the one he'd confessed to. He would follow him home and watch him during classes, all while keeping his feelings towards him to himself. Feelings he'd acted on in eighth grade, convincing himself that the reason he did all of those things was because he was in love with him. That was when he learned that sex didn't equal love. That was when he was innocent. Now, being a senior in high school (and anything but innocent) he still knew that sex didn't equal love, but he didn't let that stop him from hooking up with whoever he pleased. Unfortunately his new interest in Ventus had left him feeling unsatisfied with anyone he deemed fit to bring into his bed.

That was how his obsession always started. It was an innocent crush until the point where Vanitas couldn't leave them alone. A glance and a little harmless—more or less, sometimes he wasn't entirely sure with some of the responses he got—flirting that ended with meaningless sex that left one of them, usually him, feeling empty. He was headed into a downwards spiral, and he didn't feel like stopping himself.

It was a Thursday that saw their next encounter.

"How come you're all by yourself?" he asked the golden-haired boy. "You should come have a little fun with me."

"You're stubborn," Ventus stated flatly at the sight of Vanitas sitting across from him at lunch. The raven-haired boy smirked.

"You're perceptive," Vanitas replied, amused. The blonde looked up from his sorry excuse for a lunch at that, his eyebrow raising the slightest bit. The look the other boy gave him made his stomach tighten.

"Did you want something?" he asked, blue eyes narrowing. Vanitas leaned closer, his voice lowering in unison with his eyelids.

"I thought I made it clear what I want," he said, smirking that infuriating smirk. The blonde only glanced at him before promptly getting up and leaving, throwing a "go fuck yourself" over his shoulder.

The blonde wasn't in school on Friday. Like a calm summer breeze or a violent unforgiving gale, Ventus seemed to go wherever he liked, whenever he liked, and that only made Vanitas like him more.

Regardless of what consequences skipping class might bring him later on, there were days at a time when the blonde wasn't in school. Vanitas would wonder where the other boy could be or what he was doing. Where did he spend all of his time outside of school? It kind of angered the raven-haired boy the more he thought about it. How much he thought about it; about him. All he'd wanted was to get him in bed. Now the kid was occupying his mind more than other crap normal hormonal teenage boys think about. Well, sort of.

Playing it off as mere boredom because his latest chase was nowhere to be found, he decided he wouldn't let it bother him—not more than it already was, anyway. Besides, it would be the weekend once the final bell rang. That gave him three nights and two days to find someone (or a few someones) to fill in until he could get his hands on the blonde.

But Vanitas knew it wouldn't be that easy to overcome his inner desire.

One too many times, he'd found himself indulging in his fantasies more intimately than just through his mind. The simple fact that this kid he barely spoke to was affecting him to the point of sexual frustration made him question just how bad his 'problem' was. Though the term 'problem' could point at either his obsessive behaviour, or the underlying explanation to that obsessive behaviour. It was rare that he ever thought about anyone in a sexual manner for so long; Vanitas couldn't seem to go a single night without being plagued by images of the blonde dancing behind his eyelids. He was getting tired of having to wash his bedsheets so often.

His weekend passed by in a blur—a whirlwind of loud music, alcohol, and a petite auburnette he'd picked up at a club. She wore a pink dress that left little to the imagination; a sure indication that she'd be easy to get to. Vanitas wasn't in the mood for a chase—he'd save that for school on Monday. He'd forget her name by the time the new week rolled around, but at least he'd be able to curb his almost violent horniness. Somewhat.

Her eyes landed on his as he approached her at the bar, an air of confidence surrounding him.

"Hey," he said, giving her one of this signature smirks. She returned it, dainty fingers brushing along the side of her glass in front of her, putting thin streaks through the condensation. He sat next to her, ordering one of "whatever she's having" before rousing conversation.

In a little more than an hour, Vanitas had the girl in a taxi to his place—he had actually made the eighteen-year deadline to finding a place (once again, with the help of Leon). It was almost too easy. But in the back of his alcohol-hazed mind, he kept thinking about how much better it would be if it were a certain blonde next to him in the car, all over him during the elevator ride up to his apartment, riding him almost violently while screaming out unintelligible words amidst throes of transparent passion. Needless to say, Ventus was all he saw behind his eyelids as he reached his climax.

The girl was gone by morning, a note left for him on his bedside table scrawled in delicate cursive telling him to call her. Her number was neatly written on the bottom of the small piece of paper.

Without a second thought, Vanitas crumpled the paper up and got rid of it. He saw no point in keeping the people he slept with around; all they ever did was create problems. He wasn't one for being tied down, and that seemed to be what every body wanted. He had wanted to try it once, and he was in no position to try it again. Relationships got complicated. There was nothing complicated about sex. One thing he did know, though; he wouldn't be spending his Saturday night at home.

-—-—-

Ventus was in school Monday morning, his same cool and aloof demeanour in place, even as he conversed with other people. He was a walking contradiction—aloof, yet social when he needed to be—and becoming increasingly more so. To Vanitas, you were either one or the other. There was no room for limbo.

-—-—-

The blonde had been shown up to class for the first time in almost two weeks, rousing a whole new slew of rumours revolving around himself. Ventus knew what people said about him. For a while it was hard to determine what was true, and what as fabricated by superficial skewing. For example, his parents hadn't died in a car accident. They might as well have, though.

People thought he was a trouble-maker—not that he could really blame them. Stories of his time at another school in Twilight Town had probably migrated with him when he was transferred into the Institution. He skipped school more than the cliché rebellious clique. He didn't do much while he wasn't there; not until nightfall, anyway. His mornings had been increasingly harder to deal with once he'd gotten himself sucked into a whirlwind of wild partying, drinking, and on occasion, drugs—nothing too heavy, though. He wasn't the type to beg for attention; he didn't want his parents' attention. Any time it was on him, all he got was criticism and abuse. He needed some semblance of normality in his life, even if it was something that would eventually destroy him.

But then he'd gotten caught. A juvenile mistake on his part; getting caught sneaking into the house at four in the morning on a Saturday, his breath reeking of alcohol. After a makeshift intervention that consisted of his father punching him in the face and screaming insults, he'd decided to lay off his double life for a while.

The classroom was almost foreign to him, all eyes turning to stare as he walked to his desk near the window.

"Nice of you to join us, Ventus," the teacher said mid-lecture. The blonde pointedly ignored the look he was getting in regards to the blooming reddish-purple on the left side of his face; he hadn't made any move to cover it up. The view out the window became the most interesting thing to him as he tried to will himself to disappear. He wanted to be anywhere but in that room, but couldn't risk another intervention so soon after the last one.

Once the lesson continued on, Ventus turned his gaze from the outside world long enough to catch sight of the eyes that hadn't left him. Amber orbs framed by dark lashes stared at him unblinking, the barest of smirks forming on the other boy's lips. Ventus held eye contact for a moment longer before looking away, attention going out the window again. He made it his goal for the rest of the class to ignore the way his skin prickled and the hair on his nape stood on end. He knew a thing or two about Vanitas—more so now with the way the other boy couldn't seem to leave him alone.

When class ended, those eerie golden eyes were on him again, burning holes into the back of his head. Ventus ignored the other boy like he ignored everyone else who stared at him. But this stare was different. Not at all like the false concerned stares teachers gave him, or the infatuated looks he got from girls who were hardly worth a glance back. This gaze made him feel vulnerable and he loved the feeling. It was a lot better than the cheap thrill he got from sleeping with someone he didn't know or being drunk off his ass to forget about everything.

In a part of the back of his mind, Ventus determined that he wanted to keep this boy's attention.

He knew about him; Vanitas had a reputation, though it wasn't as spoken of as Ventus' own. Not that it was a competition for who had the most shit said about them behind their back. It was impossible not to hear what other people said—that and he'd casually let the topic of the other boy slip into one of his conversations with Xion, a girl he was slowly becoming friends with despite his initial goal to get through the year as inconspicuously as possible. He'd asked her about the rumours that followed the raven-haired boy.

She told him about Vanitas; about how he liked to flirt with just about anyone (which he knew first-hand), about how he slept around, about how he was said to be a cold-hearted person. Ventus neither condemned nor condoned the latter two of those accusations, though hearing rumours of the raven-haired boy manipulating someone into sleeping with him until he got bored and disposed of them were making him lean towards the former. But at the same time, it would be a bit of an understatement if he said he wasn't at least a little curious about the other male. Not enough to become his next play thing, though.

It wouldn't be long before the hunter became the hunted.

Vanitas watched Ventus leave the classroom with a smirk, the smaller boy giving him a quick glance before passing over the classroom's threshold. The blonde had him even more intrigued than before with that longer-than-necessary glance from his icy cobalt stare. But when the other boy had shown up to class with that ugly bruise marring his otherwise flawless porcelain complexion, Vanitas knew he was gone. _How far gone?_ was the question that needed answering. That, and _how far was he willing to go?_ He wished the other hadn't turned away so soon, though—he was just beginning to enjoy their little staring contest. But he didn't go disappointed. Everyone knows that if someone looks at you twice, they're interested.

_-—-—-_

"Hey," Vanitas said, sliding into the seat next to Ventus', his voice low and sultry. The blonde barely moved as he glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes.

"That's Xion's seat." Vanitas rolled his eyes and leaned back in his_—_Xion's_—_seat, arms resting over the back of the chair.

"She can sit somewhere else," he stated, his voice a tinge harsher than he'd wanted it to be. The blonde boy rose an eyebrow at him before turning his gaze back out the window. He could feel the other boy's gaze on his back, that same tingling sensation running along the nape of his neck and down his arms. He couldn't take much more of it.

"What do you want?" the blonde asked, his arms crossed and resting on his desktop. He turned to look Vanitas in the eye. Fiery gold met swirling blue. Vanitas smirked.

"You keep asking me that," he said. "My answer isn't going to change anytime soon." Ventus almost laughed out loud, keeping most of his amusement to himself as he let a small smirk of his own form over his lips. The raven-haired boy's eyebrows lifted into his bangs.

"You think I'm not onto you," he said. "People talk, you know." Vanitas chuckled, a low sound in his throat that made Ventus' insides squirm.

"I don't think anyone knows that more than me," he said. Ventus wouldn't argue against that sentiment. "But you don't seem to be reacting the way most people would." Ventus shrugged a shoulder.

"It's hard to be surprised after you've been tailing me for weeks," he said wryly. Vanitas chuckled, lifting a shoulder gently.

"I'm just curious about you," he said honestly. "I mean, people have been gravitating to you since you got here_—_there must be something about you." And there was, but Vanitas wasn't so sure he could pinpoint it exactly at that moment. But it was there_—_if it wasn't, he wouldn't even be bothering with the blonde. Cerulean orbs landed on him.

"What do you want to know?" Ventus asked him, turning slightly to face the other boy. There were about six different ways Vanitas could answer that question. The phrase _what you taste like_ came to mind first.

"You're willing to answer anything?" the raven asked, raising an eyebrow. He leaned forward onto the desk in front of him. This kid seemed to know exactly how to get his interest. Ventus shrugged nonchalantly, his face a perfect mask over the triumph he was feeling at the moment. He didn't know Vanitas personally (though that could become inevitable in the foreseeable future), but if the kid was really anything like what he'd heard and what Xion told him, he was going to have as much fun as he could.

"I've got nothing to hide," he said smoothly, watching the other boy out of the corner of his eye. It was the truth, but the raven-haired boy seemed skeptical. He was about to speak again, but their teacher picked that exact moment to walk into the room and announce the start of class. Vanitas tsked and gave Ventus a smirk before getting up and going to his seat across the room, the conversation hanging in the air unfinished. Ventus watched him go in his peripheral vision, taking in the sight of the other's long legs, slim waist, and broad shoulders.

Resisting might be harder than he thought.

_-—-—-_

"What did he want?" Xion asked at lunch. Her large blue eyes stared at Ventus as he ate his pasta. He shrugged.

"Nothing really," he replied. "He says he's curious about me." The dark-haired girl only blinked, her eyebrows raising a little as she lifted a forkful of food to her lips. Between Ventus' suddenly new interest in the renowned play boy and said play boy's steadily increasing appearances, Xion was feeling more and more curious about their involvement with one another.

"Curious, huh?" she said between thoughtful chews. "I guess that's not so bad, I mean, considering last week anything he ever said to you reeked of sexual innuendo." Ventus nodded in agreement.

"I'm going to see if I can make friends with him," he said. Xion blinked up at him, her eyes slightly wide. Ventus blinked back. "...What?"

"Ven, people aren't friends with that guy," she said. "The only friends I've ever seen him with were a group of guys older than him_—_a group of really not good guys. I mean, I'm no expert in the ways of Vanitas, but I can tell you that he wasn't nearly as bad as he is now before he met them." Ventus rose an eyebrow, his intrigue digging deeper.

"How do you know?" he asked, licking the extra sauce off of his fork. Xion sighed a bit.

"Because I've seen him change over time," she said. "He was already hanging out with them when I first met him, but he got worse as time went on." Ventus 'hmm'ed under his breath, taking everything Xion had said into consideration. Suddenly he wanted to know things beyond what he saw of the other boy within the walls of the school.

Xion's concerned look didn't falter.

"Look," Ventus said, rolling his eyes a bit (making the girl across the table glare at him; he chuckled at her). "There probably isn't anything that he can do or say that I haven't seen, heard, or tried. I'm not as squeaky-clean as you might think, Xi."

"Well, I know that," she said. "You disappear for weeks at a time sometimes, and I know sure as hell that you aren't sick." Ventus chuckled again, this time at what was said, not the person saying it.

"Guilty," he said. They fell into silence, the sounds of conversation, plastic trays clattering against tabletops, and chair legs squeaking against linoleum creating comfortable background noise. Ventus picked at his food a little more while Xion finished hers up.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Ven," she said finally after staring at him for some time. "I can tell you're not gonna let this go, so I won't try to stop you. Just be careful." It wasn't like Vanitas was a felon, Ventus surmised. He couldn't see much logic in Xion's constant concern for him over the other boy. But he figured she was just playing the role of the 'good friend'.

He had to admit that she fit into it well.

-_—_-_—_

The next time Ventus saw the raven-haired amber-eyed boy was after school. The taller male had waltzed up to him while he was at his locker, signature smirk in place as he leaned next to him with an arm propped on the locker next to his.

"Hey sexy," he said, leaning almost a little too close for comfort. Almost. Ventus glanced at him, not missing the barest hint of teeth in Vanitas' smile. He sucked in a breath, willing himself to keep his cool composure, letting his eyes roam over the length of the male standing in front of him; uniform jacket slung over a shoulder, dress shirt untucked, dark skinny jeans in place of the polyester slacks (not that Ven was really surprised by that; most people substituted their own pants for the itchy ones they were given). He even took note of the more subtle things, like the ring on Vanitas' left pointer finger; the black rubber bracelets around his wrist; the faint mole of his forearm just below where the sleeves of his shirt were rolled to; the thin cord choker that wrapped around his pale neck four times. Even the small studs in his ears were prominent.

Ventus lifted his eyes to meet amused gold ones. The new smirk on his face was screaming _like what you see? _If Ventus had answered aloud, he would've said yes.

"Hey to you too," he said, keeping the same interested-but-not-too-interested disposition he'd decided he'd use to approach the other boy. It had been a week or so since he put his plan into motion. It wasn't really much of a plan to begin with, but he knew what he was doing. Vanitas seemed to take the bait, laying off the flirting just a tad. Tad meaning barely a notch.

"Are you busy this weekend?" the raven asked, falling into step with the blonde. It had unofficially become routine for them to meet up after school, if only to exit the building together before going about their own business. Ventus rose an eyebrow, slinging his messenger bag over his shoulder.

"No," he said, "but I'm assuming you want to change that fact." The taller boy only chuckled at that, knowing he was obvious with his question.

"Since you're accepting that I want to change that fact, does that mean you'll hang out with me on Saturday night? Demyx says he can get me into this club. And since we're becoming friends and all that, I figured I'd ask and see if you were up for it." Ventus shrugged a bit, though he wasn't sure if Vanitas was looking at him or not. The blonde thought it over for all of about three seconds before deciding he wanted to go, but he didn't want to seem too eager; that would only please Vanitas.

"I'll think about it," he said dismissively. Vanitas seemed to think he meant the statement as something other than what he actually meant it as. The raven-haired boy stopped, pulling a pen out of his pocket and grabbing Ven's hand, palm up. The innocent_—_or about as innocent as anything involving himself or Vanitas could be_—_touch made the hairs on his arm stand. The dark-haired boy scribbled something onto the palm of his hand, smiling (that same smile that showed the barest hint of teeth; Ventus decided that he found it sexy) after letting his touch linger.

"Call me when you decide," he said, turning to head out the doors of Twilight Town Private Institution.

Vanitas was getting good at holding his composure_—_Ventus was certainly exercising that muscle for him.

Half the time he had to restrain himself from jumping the kid in the middle of class. He wasn't sure if the other was aware of it, but he was driving the raven crazy. Those little fleeting smiles he got when he said something witty; the smirks he got when the other actually returned his flirting (or sometimes initiated it on his own); the slightest sway of his hips when he walked. Everything about him was putting Vanitas on edge. It was bad at first, but now after getting somewhat closer to the other boy, his urges seemed to increase ten-fold.

He was in that situation again; a palm pressed against the tiles of the shower, the other tightly fisting his arousal brought on by images of the small blonde that seemed to play in his mind on repeat. Ventus pressed back into his mattress. Ventus with his face contorted in unadulterated pleasure. Ventus screaming his name in ecstasy. The hot water cascading down his body only seemed to heighten his state of mind, the steam building up making him light-headed.

With one final tug and a strangled moan, his eyes fluttered closed, a whisper of the blonde boy's name on his lips. He almost passed out when he came.

He opened his eyes in time to see the very last of his orgasm wash down the drain, running a hand through his wet hair.

That was the first drop down the spiral.

-_—_-_—_-

Ventus had waited until Saturday afternoon to call. And it was that same Saturday that decided that Vanitas sounded sexy over the phone. The raven-haired boy told him to be ready by nine o'clock that night, to which he agreed before hanging up.

He dug around in his closet for something_—_anything_—_that would pass as clothing he could wear to a club. Pushing past all of his vests and dress shirts, all the plaid and argyle until he reached the back wall. Sighing and sifting through again, he settled for a plain black button-up shirt and a pair of jeans that reminded him of the ones Vanitas had been wearing the day before.

His hair was in its usual gravity-defying upwards sweep of spikes, his skin still as flawless as it had been before he made his venture through puberty.

He'd expected Vanitas to go the door of his dorm when he showed up, but should've known that he could expect different. He learned that the raven-haired boy sometimes liked to do things the hard way. In this instance, coming in through the window.

"You do know I have a door, right?" Ventus asked him, fixing his hair a bit more before turning to him with that same mask concealing his surprise. The taller boy chuckled and slid a hand into his pocket.

"The window's more fun," he replied, his free hand brushing through his unruly yet somehow perfectly placed locks.

Ventus snorted before flicking the bathroom light off, walking into the main room. He took a good look at the other boy. He looked the same as he did when he saw him last; that ring on his finger, those bracelets on his wrist, that choker around his neck, the earrings in his ears. But the dark v-neck top he had on revealed more of his pale skin, his collarbones jutting out sharply. Ventus could see the beginnings of the subtle muscles in his chest before the neckline came into view.

"You're staring," Vanitas said, making deep blue meet gold. He was smirking_—_of course. "I guess that means you do like what you see." Ventus scoffed. He'd never admit that out loud. Anything to keep Vanitas from getting that self-satisfaction he seemed to crave.

"Are we going or what?" the blonde asked, walking to the door. Vanitas followed behind him, that same infuriating smirk on his face. Sometimes Ventus wished he could slap the other boy. Well, he probably could but he wasn't sure how the raven would react to something like that. That kind of contact hadn't occurred between them. It was ironic because that's what Ventus felt like doing every time Vanitas touched his waist or slung himself over his shoulder as a means of getting close enough to blow hot air into his ear.

He held the door open for his friend before locking it, following the dark-haired boy out to their destination.

-_—_-_—_-

They met up with Axel, Demyx, and another guy who was introduced to Ven as 'Marluxia'. Unfortunately_—_or maybe fortunately, he hadn't decided yet_—_for Ventus, Marluxia was even more relentless than Vanitas. The guy was hanging all over him on the way there, whispering suggestive things into his ear, playing with the hem of his shirt, brushing his hands over his jean-clad thigh. If it weren't for the fact that Ventus was used to advances like that, he would've punched the guy out by now.

"This one's cute, Vanitas," the pink-haired male said, giving Ventus' cheek a caress with the back of his hand. "Where did you find him?" Ventus stayed silent, tilting his head away from Marluxia's touch the slightest bit.

"We're classmates," the raven answered. "Careful Marly, you'll have your hands full with that one. He's cute, but feisty." The barest of smiles appeared on Ventus' face before he looked out the window of the cab they were in, watching the city go by. He could feel Marluxia press himself closer, his breath tickling his cheek.

"That's fine with me," he said, his voice lowering with each word. Ventus turned to him then, meeting his feral smirk. "I like when they put up a fight." Demyx and Axel were practically howling in laughter before Marluxia was pulled away from the small blonde.

"C'mon Marly, you're scaring the kid," Demyx said between bouts of laughter. "At least wait until we're inside before you molest him."

The taxi pulled up in front of the club. Axel paid the driver and joined the others on the sidewalk. Marluxia had finally backed off a bit after Ventus gave him a pointed glare. It wasn't long before he was replaced by Vanitas slinging his arm around the blonde's shoulder.

"Sorry about Marluxia," he whispered. "He's a little..."

"Don't worry about it," Ventus said. "I'm used to it." He gave the raven-haired boy a smirk, nudging him in the side and ducking under his arm.

"Guys, through here," Demyx beckoned from the alley behind the club. "We're gettin' in for free tonight." Axel and Marluxia were moving instantly with Vanitas tailing them. Ventus hadn't moved, though, his eyes turned up to the night sky.

"Something wrong, Ven?" the raven asked, golden eyes questioning. The blonde glanced at him before shaking his head, catching up.

"Nothing to worry about it," he said, hands sliding into his pockets. "Let's party."

-_—_-_—_-

The club was packed almost literally from wall to wall. Vanitas squeezed through the mob of bodies behind the rest of his friends, Ventus somewhere behind him. Although he was frequent to the scene, Vanitas was beginning to dislike going to clubs. The loud ten-minute loop of techno blaring through the sound system was almost enough to make him wish he'd stayed home instead of dragging Ventus out with him. The blonde didn't even seem like the clubbing type.

He squeezed through a particularly tight bunch, smirking at the random hands touching his shoulders, chest, and back. That in itself was probably one of the main reasons he subjected himself to this sort of chaos. He felt wanted; even if it were purely for sexual reasons, it still made him feel good, and he'd be damned if he didn't indulge in the feeling.

A hand grabbed at the back of his shirt and he turned sharply, a disgruntled Ventus bumping into his side. He smirked.

"Woah, careful Ven," he said. The blonde just glanced up at him, straightening his button-up shirt before following Demyx, Axel, and Marluxia to the bar.

Ventus felt like he was back in the earlier part of his high school career_—_at the bar of a night club. Except this time, he wasn't looking to take or be taken home. Tonight, he vowed to himself, was supposed to be about having fun with Vanitas, that kid who couldn't stop telling him how much he wanted in his pants, and his not-good friends (according to Xion, who Ventus had concluded was wrong).

It was the first time Vanitas had seen Ventus wearing a full-blown genuine smile. Marluxia had taken it upon himself to try and get the blonde drunk, claiming that he would be "so cute while inebriated". He didn't know about cute, but Ventus was definitely tipsy. He had no idea what Marluxia was buying him (something loaded with Vodka that smelled like white freezies), but it was delicious going down and he'd had about four of them. He was sure that he was drunk (or bordering drunk) when he hopped off of his stool (and surprisingly didn't stumble) and walked over to Vanitas, pressing his chest to the taller boy's back, his lips coming close to his ear so he could hear him over the new ten-minute looped techno song that was playing.

"Dance with me."

Vanitas didn't need any futher prompting, turning in his seat to face vibrant blue eyes at half-mast. The lights in the place were reflecting all colours off of his hair and skin, making him glow. The little smirk on his pink lips was inviting. Vanitas had to stare for a while before he downed the rest of his (third? fourth? more than that?) drink. He said nothing and only smirked, sending a glance to his friends (Axel wiggling his eyebrows, Marluxia giving him a wink, and Demyx too busy chatting up the slate-haired bartender to notice what was going on) before a warm hand closed around his, drawing his attention again.

Ventus gave him a small smirk somewhere between mischievous and lustful. He turned away long enough to lead the raven into the raging crowd of dancing bodies. Ignoring the curious gazes, the wandering hands, and the calls of_ c'mere baby_ as he followed the blonde, Vanitas kept his eyes trained on the way the other boy's hips had already started moving to the beat.

Vanitas decided he liked drunk Ventus very much. Not because of the way their bodies were pressed against one another, or the way the blonde subtly ground his hips against his every so often, or the way his fingers were tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck (though all of those were good things, great things_—_amazing, even). But he liked drunk Ventus because he let himself go. There was no way in hell Vanitas would've ever gotten to witness that gorgeous full smile if Marluxia hadn't gotten the kid tipsy. He owed his pink-haired friend big time.

At some point they'd gotten closer, their foreheads pressed together intimately, Vanitas' hands resting firmly on the blonde's hips while Ventus had secured an arm around the raven's shoulders, their lips mere centimeters apart. And Vanitas realized that this was something he wanted. He wanted to kiss Ventus. But just as he was ready to make his move, the songs changed and Ventus pulled away.

He'd get another chance.

Ventus wasn't sure how long they were dancing, but if the bead of sweat that had made its way down Vanitas' temple, down the side of his face, under his jaw, and down the expanse of his neck to disappear under the neckline of that infernal v-neck was anything to go by, it had been a while. He pulled the taller boy out of the crowd with him, his mind still fogged by those damn white freezie drinks, though he'd be lying if he said he wasn't in complete bliss. The hand resting firmly on his hip and breath near his ear made his skin tingle in that way that only Vanitas could make happen. The others were nowhere to be seen.

"Let's go," Vanitas said into his ear, his voice in that low tone that made Ventus' insides churn in that pleasant way. "The others can take care of themselves." Ventus turned his head as far as possible without shifting, his jaw coming into contact with the tip of the taller boy's nose as Vanitas leaned a little, soft lips pressing against the side of the blonde's neck and moving lower by the second. Ventus would be lying if he said he didn't love it.

He let Vanitas lead him through the crowded place and back outside, the cool air immediately waking up parts of his mind that were less than too far gone under the haze of the drinks (he'd just settled for calling them White Freezies). He looked up at the taller male as he hailed a cab, noting that he didn't look very drunk_—_tipsy at the most, but not drunk. Vanitas turned to him as the taxi pulled up, a warm hand cupping the blonde's face as the other boy looked at him.

"You alright? You look a little out of it." Ventus shook his head and reached for the car door, pulling it open with ease and getting into the vehicle. Vanitas followed before telling the driver the address of his apartment. There was no way Ventus could go back on campus like this_—_not to mention the gates were probably closed now anyway. Time had flown by even though it seemed to stand still for Vanitas while they were dancing.

That was when he'd realized that his obsession had changed into something different. Or maybe it was before that. Ventus hadn't tried to push him away like the others had; he had no reason to become that possessive monster_—_though Marluxia was seriously testing his limits that night. Somewhere along his thought process, he'd accepted the fact that he was interested in Ventus a lot more than just physically. He glanced over at the blonde, his head leaned against the window, eyes half-lidded and slow-blinking. Marluxia was right_—_he was cute when he was drunk. And he was sexy, and he was honest, and probably a million other things that he kept hidden when he was sober.

The taxi came to a stop outside his building complex and Vanitas paid the man. Ventus had refused his help out of the car and up the stairs when he offered, babbling something about being a man and being able to take care of himself even though he was small. Vanitas laughed lightly. He was also a lot more chatty while under the influence.

He flicked on the light once he was finally able to get his apartment door open. It was hard with a drunk Ventus pressed up against his back and nuzzling into his nape. His own drunken haze wasn't helping much either. He watched as Ventus kicked his shoes off and waltzed inside like he'd been there a million times before tonight_—_another thing he probably wouldn't have done if he were sober.

"You know, I'd always wondered why you didn't live at the school," Ventus said, looking around the simply-furnished living room.

"I'm too old," Vanitas answered. "I'm already eighteen so I couldn't stay there anymore. Besides, I've been there a lot longer than I would've ever wanted." The blonde stopped looking at his extensive DVD collection long enough to give him a slightly confused look. Vanitas sighed. He guessed now was as good a time as ever to tell the smaller male a bit about himself aside from what he already knew. Maybe if he was lucky, Ventus wouldn't remember in the morning.

"I've been at TTPI since the third grade," he said. "I would go home every summer, but spent every other holiday there; even Christmas. After the summer after eighth grade, I stopped going home because my father didn't want me there anymore; because I tried to confide in him and my mother about being bullied because I'm bisexual." Ventus was completely silent as he listened, eyes focused on the raven-haired teen. "So I lived at the school from fourteen to eighteen, and once I was legal, I had to leave. Luckily Leon was able to get me a place. I actually owe that guy quite a lot..." He felt that cobalt gaze on him as he looked anywhere but at the blonde. Not many people knew what he'd just told Ventus, so he was a little embarrassed.

A hand pulling on his made him snap his attention to the other boy all rosy cheeks and half-lidded eyes. Their eyes stayed on each other for what seemed like an eternity before Vanitas looked away. The amount of emotions_—_and sexual tension, but maybe that was just him_—_was almost unbearable in his current state.

"The bedroom is down the hall on the left," he said before making his way over to the couch, sitting on it heavily. The weight of how much he drank was starting to make itself present. Or maybe it was something different... Vanitas wasn't sure.

"You're not coming?" Ventus asked, an eyebrow risen. The taller boy snorted.

"You really trust me drunk and in a bedroom with you?" he asked. Ventus shrugged.

"If you were going to take advantage of me, you probably would've done it by now," he said. "You would've done something at the club. It's alright, Van. I trust you." Vantias gaped.

Those were three words he'd never heard in his life.

As if his body was on autopilot, he rose from the couch and made his way over to the blonde, his height towering over Ventus'. The blonde simply gave the front of his shirt a gentle tug before turning down the hall.

"Come on." Vanitas had to fight to keep his hands to himself as he followed.

His bedroom was a bit of a mess, but he could worry about that later. Right now he had to deal with the problem_—_or maybe it wasn't a problem_—_at hand; Ventus in his bedroom. Ventus in his bedroom, drunk. The blonde took a seat on the edge of the bed, glancing around the plain space. The walls were empty. Vanitas stared at him. He wasn't quite sure how Ventus would take it if he knew that he'd just cleaned those sheets that morning because he'd made a mess of them again_—_for the umpteenth time_—_after having yet another wet dream about him. Or that just beyond the door to the left was where he'd jerked off to the thought of the blonde a few more times than he was comfortable admitting. Or that it wasn't just about getting him in bed anymore.

He needed to get out of the room.

"I'll go get us some water or something," the raven said, making to move out of the room before he lost his nerve. He almost made it to salvation, but not before Ventus grabbed at his arm, tugging him down onto the bed with him. Except, when he was drunk, his depth perception was pretty much null and void and the dark-haired boy ended up half on top of him.

"Don't go," he said, breath ghosting over Vanitas' lips. Ventus was sure that if he were sober, they wouldn't be in this situation. His heart was racing, the tip of his nose barely brushing the taller boy's.

It could be so simple. He could just tilt his head forward a bit and he'd have what he's wanted for weeks now. He wasn't even sure when he'd started to want it. The other boy had penetrated his defenses. Xion had too, but there was a deep contrast between the girl and Vanitas. Ventus wasn't quite sure what it was just yet, but he knew it was there. And in that moment he'd realized that there was more to Vanitas than an overbearing flirt who didn't know when to quit, the other boy's lips pressed against his.

His mind almost shut down completely, his arms circling Vanitas' shoulders and pulling the dark-haired boy closer. Their lips parted slowly and hazy azure met equally hazy aureate eyes. The taller boy was breathing shakily, light puffs of air against Ventus' lips, the blonde's fingers finding their way into charcoal strands. Nothing was said as Ventus closed the gap between them again, pulling Vanitas down onto the mattress with him.

-_—_-_—_-

When morning came, Ventus had mentally cursed the sun and white walls and whoever thought it was a good idea to make it so that curtains didn't close all the way. His head pounded, his eye sockets felt sore, and his mouth was something akin to sandpaper. His breath also tasted putrid. He shifted and moved to sit up in bed.

Not his bed. Someone else's bed.

The heavy arm draped over his waist_—_his naked waist; when the hell did he get undressed?_—_was enough to start the cogs of his memory. He was at Vanitas' place. He was in Vanitas' bed. In nothing but his boxers. He remembered the club and the flashing lights and the drinks that tasted like white freezies. He remembered dancing with Vanitas, being with Vanitas, leaving with Vanitas. He remembered Vanitas' story. He remembered kissing Vanitas. He wasn't sure if the word 'amazing' did the experience justice.

But then his memory blanked after that.

"Good morning, sunshine," came the sleepy voice behind him_—_he wasn't sure if he liked sleepy Vanitas' or over-the-phone Vanitas' voice more. He concluded that he liked Vanitas' voice no matter what it sounded like. Strong arms encircled his waist, squeezing him against an equally naked chest. The raven yawned softly, his eyes closing as he brushed the tip of his nose along the nape of Ventus' neck before resting his chin in the crook. "Do you feel okay?"

"I feel fine," he said, his voice sounding extremely hoarse. "Uh... Did we?" Vanitas chuckled softly, a warm puff of air brushing over Ventus' shoulder, the arms around his middle loosening.

"No, we didn't," Vanitas answered. "Might've been one hell of an experience if we had, though. We didn't get far past a heavy make out session; you fell asleep a little while after I gave you that..." He tapped a finger against Ventus' neck, making the blonde wince softly.

"You gave me a hickey?" he asked, sounding less angry than he probably would've been if this had happened a few weeks earlier. He brushed his fingers over the spot, imagining it to be a dark purple by now. He could almost hear the other boy's smirk. "So you didn't do anything while I was asleep?" Another chuckle left the boy behind him as he shifted a bit, resting a hand on the blonde's side.

"Not really," he replied. "I mean, aside from stripping you down and admiring your beauty, I didn't do much." Ventus swore he could feel his entire torso flush with colour. "By the way," Vanitas continued, his finger drawing a line down the side of Ventus' body and resting on his hip. "Your tattoo is cute."

Now Ventus knows his entire torso flushed with colour.

-_—_-_—_-

Monday morning, Ventus wasn't in school. After the events of the weekend, Vanitas was looking forward to seeing him again_—_maybe sporting that impressive love bite he'd given him. He made sure it wouldn't disappear for at least a week. Needless to say, he got restless throughout the day. Xion had asked him if he knew where Ventus was, to which he cut his eyes at her and asked her, "How the hell would I know?" Part of him didn't mean to answer her like that, but the girl still annoyed him.

As soon as he got the chance, he texted Ventus.

_Where are you?_

Within minutes, his phone vibrated in his hand.

_The cornfield._

_What the hell are you doing there?_

_Nothing. Are you coming or not?_

-—-—-

Back when Vanitas was in ninth grade, the cornfield used to be a huge hangout spot for some of the older students. It sat right on the boundary lines of Twilight Town. Of course, he never went because that was during the time he was bullied but he'd heard lots of stories about it. Now, three years later, no one really went there anymore. Those that did were legal and/or graduated and had moved onto a different venue, and those in younger grades didn't seem to want to continue the tradition. Being there now, everything that went on there seemed more like an urban myth than an outgrown reality.

It took him a while to find Ventus among the corn stalks; spotting a glimpse of golden hair he came into a small clearing near a cliff. There was Ventus, dressed in his uniform and everything, back against the grass with his arms folded behind his head as he cloud-watched.

"Do you always just randomly lay in fields?" Vanitas asked, amused. Ventus sat up and turned to him, blue eyes soft.

"I come here to think," was his answer. He laid back down and turned his eyes back to the sky. Vanitas sat next to him.

"Oh really?" he asked, his amusement still evident in his tone. "And just what are you thinking about?" He hoped to God it had something to do with him, with that weekend, with anything that happened. Ventus blinked slowly but didn't look at him.

"A lot of things," he said. Oh. "You mostly, though." _Oh._

"Yeah?" the raven asked, hoping he didn't sound too hopeful. "What about me?"

"I..." The blonde's eyebrows furrowed a bit before he tilted his head, meeting Vanitas' eyes again. "Everything." His heart was pounding again as Vanitas looked back at him, his face completely serious. No smirk, no playful eyes, just seriousness. His voice was soft when he spoke.

"I've been thinking about you too," he said, his eyes never leaving the other boy's cobalt gaze. Ventus gave him small smile before looking back up to the sky.

"I never told you how I ended up here, did I?" The blonde asked after a small silence. Vanitas shook his head.

"No, you didn't."

"I guess it's only fair that I do, since you told me..." His voice trailed off a bit as Vanitas sat up.

"You remember?" he asked, eyes slightly wide. "I was kind of hoping that you'd forget in the morning, to be honest..." He ran a hand through his hair as he spoke, a small, barely-there sheepish smile on his lips. His soft, pink, experienced lips. Ventus would've loved to kiss him again right then.

"I remember," he said. He was silent for about three minutes before he spoke again. "I used to live on Destiny Islands with my mom and brother. I loved it there; the beach, the ocean, the warm nights, being able to see every single star in the sky... Everything about it was perfect."

"So why'd you leave?" Vanitas asked, golden gaze downcast at the blonde beside him. Ventus laughed softly as he sat up—a bitter laugh that made the raven-haired boy frown.

"I'd hit that rebellious teenager stage," he said. "My brother and I had become little trouble-makers, though he wasn't nearly as bad as me. I would get suspended from school for fighting, I would go to parties on school nights and stuff like that. I started drinking when I was in ninth grade and from then on until the end of eleventh grade, I'd done more than most people do in their entire lives.

"I drank, I partied, I caused fights, I slept around a lot—I lost my virginity at sixteen... I even got into drugs for a little while—nothing serious, though. Eventually, my mother had taken all she could handle from me and she shipped me off to my father. He lives here. He put me in public school for about half the year. I'd met some people and it was like life back on the Islands all over again. At least until a few weeks after he made me transfer here.

"At first I was living at home because they couldn't accommodate me. But then my father caught me sneaking into the house at four in the morning and used punching me in the face as a means of intervention. I guess it worked because here I am, not out doing all that reckless shit... I guess I could thank him."

Vanitas was quiet the whole time Ventus spoke, his eyes never leaving the blonde's face. So that day he'd walked into class with that huge bruise on his face was because his father punched him. He felt his heart ache—and maybe that's why he found himself wanting more from Ventus. Because they had similar lives in the sense that their families couldn't deal with them and them shipped to Twilight Town. Except, the only major difference was...

"Do you still talk to him?" he asked, causing Ventus to look at him for a split second before diverting his gaze. He shook his head.

"I was mad at him for a long time, so I didn't contact him at all on purpose," he said. "I think I could try now, though. Maybe."

"You should," Vanitas said. He suddenly thought about his mother. He stopped contacting her after a while, fearing that his father would hurt her if he knew she was still in contact with his "disgusting faggot of a son". "It would probably do you some good." Ventus shook his head.

"I don't think it would," he said softly. "My father and I didn't get along very well anyway. I'd be better off doing what you did and getting my own place. I think I'd be happier that way. I wouldn't risk any more interventions." Vanitas couldn't help the small smile that spread on his lips.

"I'll help you look for a place if you want," he suggested. "I mean, Leon helped me find my apartment, but I'm sure between the two of us we could find you a decent place." Ventus smiled—that same carefree smile with the teeth and everything (though somehow it seemed nicer when he wasn't tipsy). Vanitas used that moment to realize that he was falling in love with the other boy.

"I'd like that," Ventus said, nodding slowly.

-—-—-

_...a big meteor shower scheduled for tonight, so if you live in the city and you want to see it, you better find yourself a nice rural area away from all those lights. In other news—_

Vanitas flicked the TV off, his eyebrows furrowing a bit. Hadn't Ventus said something about stars in his back story when he told it almost a few weeks ago? He eased himself off the couch and went to get his phone, immediately dialing Axel's number.

"Hey Ax, how would you like to see a meteor shower tonight?"

-—-—-

Ventus had somehow forgotten how stressful homework could be. It had seemed like years since he'd done an assignment since he'd been hanging around Vanitas. Although he knew that wasn't true—because Vanitas had turned out to be quite the smart one and offered to help him with his Physics homework on more than one account—he couldn't help but feel foreign to the concept.

He was close to finishing up when a knock came at his window before Vanitas climbed in all long legs and smirking face.

"What brings you through my window?" the blonde asked with an amused smile. He'd gotten used to Vanitas sneaking into his room over the past week or two. The raven-haired boy shrugged a bit, hands in the pocket of his hooded sweater.

"Nothing much," he said, his smile growing a bit. "Axel and the others are waiting outside. Can you come out with us?" Ventus looked back at his abandoned work. He only had a few questions left; it wouldn't hurt to do them later.

"We're not going clubbing again, are we?" he asked, suddenly skeptical. Vanitas laughed, his teeth showing. He'd been doing that more lately—smiling with his teeth. It made Ventus' head spin.

"No, we're not," he confirmed. "And Demyx is the one with the alcohol this time, and not nearly as much, so Marly won't get to see you all cute when you're inebriated. I mean, unless you can't handle beer..." Ventus was already grabbing a sweater as the other boy spoke, nudging him back towards the window.

"Oh shut up," he said before climbing out the window and down onto the safety of the ground, greeting Axel, Marluxia, Demyx, and someone Ventus vaguely recognized as the bartender from that night.

"Ven, this is Zexion; Zexion, this is Ventus," the mohawked boy introduced them as Vanitas made his way down to them.

"Yeah yeah we're all great friends," he said. "Come on, we've gotta get to the cornfield before nine o'clock." Ventus rose an eyebrow, following the other boys to Demyx's car.

"What's so special about nine o'clock?" he asked, getting into the vehicle, sitting next to Vanitas who only slung an arm around his shoulders and nudged his cheek with the tip of his nose.

"You'll see," he said.

Demyx started driving.

-—-—-

It was harder to navigate the place in the dark, but Vanitas seemed to know where he was going even if the little flashlight Demyx had fished out of the trunk of his car wasn't doing much to help.

"Van, I think we lost the others," Ventus said, looking around for any sign of the other three boys. Vanitas chuckled softly and grabbed the blonde's hand, pulling him flush against him. Ventus tried to glare at him, but it wasn't holding too well.

"They can take care of themselves," the taller said with a small smirk. "Come on, it's almost time." He looked at his watch before pulling Ventus into the small clearling that the smaller boy used as his personal thinking space. Ventus' eyes went wide.

The clearing was covered by a large blanket, a few others folded and put to the side. On the blanket was a single red rose.

"What's going on?" the blonde asked. He was confused as hell. Vanitas led him to the small display, picking up the rose with gentle fingers.

"They say when you receive a red rose, it's because that person loves you," he said, eyes downcast. He reached for Ventus' hand and placed the rose between his fingers gently before looking into the pools of blue reflecting the tiny traces of light around them.

"Does this mean...?" Ventus was speechless, and a little light-headed. He was almost certain his heart wasn't supposed to skip beats like that. Or at all.

"I love you, Ventus," Vanitas said. "I didn't at first, but then all this stuff happened between us and I became obsessed. I've always kind of had a problem with that. But this felt different; it wasn't that same single-minded-to-the-point-of-recklessness or whatever psychological bullshit Leon tried to spoonfeed me. It was love. It took a while to realize it, but..."

Ventus wasn't sure if it was relief that Vanitas felt the same way he did, or if it was the realization that he'd even felt that way at all that made him throw his arms around the older male's shoulders, pulling him against his chest, their lips a breath apart. All he knew was that he was happy; the happiest he'd been since he left the Islands. What was supposed to be a mind game of dominance had easily turned into something inescapable. And the truth was, Ventus didn't even try to stop it from happening.

"I love you too," the blonde whispered, closing the near nonexistent gap between them, deepening the kiss as Vanitas' arms circled his waist, practically crushing him against the taller boy.

For the first time in his life, Vanitas felt things fall into place. Whatever love had been missing from his childhood and onward could be replaced. Ventus could more than easily fill the hole in his chest ten times over. Suddenly it didn't matter that his parents shipped him off, that they shunned him, that they didn't care to know if he was even still alive. It didn't matter that people thought badly of him, or that he could be suffering from some kind of psychological disorder. All that mattered was Ventus.

They pulled away just in time to hear Axel from God knows where in the cornfield.

"It's starting!"

Vanitas immediately looked at his watch before looking at Ventus, then to the sky. The blonde rose an eyebrow. _What's starting?_ he thought.

"Vanitas...?"

"Just watch," the taller said, keeping his eyes on the sky.

Ventus was about to speak again when something caught his eye. A shooting star streaked across the sky, making the blonde gasp, his eyes widening a bit. Then another went by. Then another. Soon the sky was filled with shooting stars, each passing one seeming to make Ventus' eyes widen in astonishment.

"This is what you wanted me to come out for?" he asked, turning to look at the taller male. Vanitas glanced down at him, mesmerized by the way the meteor shower reflected in Ventus' eyes.

"Yeah," he answered. "I know you like stars and stuff, so I thought it was the perfect opportunity for... Everything." Ventus giggled—like, actually giggled. Vanitas marked it his new favourite sound (at least until he got the blonde moaning his name; then that would be his favourite sound).

"You're a closet romantic," he said, looking down at the rose in his hand. Vanitas laughed a little.

"Yeah, well I hope you didn't have anything important to do back at your dorm," he said. "The plan was to stay out here until sunrise." Ventus rose an eyebrow before looking back up at the meteors crossing the vast navy blue before seeming to disappear behind the horizon.

"You do know that meteor showers only last about an hour, right?" he asked. Vanitas nodded, even though he was sure the blonde was still looking at the sky.

"I know," he said.

"So then what are the blankets for?"

"Have you ever made love under the stars, Ventus?" The blonde flushed crimson at the question.

"I-I've never made love," he said, his voice barely a whisper as he blinked up into Vanitas' glowing eyes. The dark-haired male smiled in return before it morphed into a smirk.

"Neither have I," he said before grabbing hold of the blonde and making him yelp—a very manly noise, if he could say so himself—and lifting him princess style. "But there's a first time for everything, right?"

Ventus just giggled—like, actually giggled—again, making the raven laugh as he carried him to the blanket, the sky still lit up by thousands of shooting stars._  
_

* * *

**A/N:** this is the longest single piece of writing i have ever written, holy crap. it's about thirty pages, and it took about three days. it turned out cheesier than i had intended, BUT OH WELL. i hope you enjoyed it.


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